


In The Darkness With You

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 30 Day Dark OTP Challenge, Age of Ultron inspired, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Plug, Asphyxiation TW Ch. 4, Blind Character, Blindness, Bloodplay Ch. 5, Character Death, Choking, Collars, Cop!Natasha, D/s, Dark!Thor, Dominance, Dub-con Ch. 6, Enemies, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Mistaken Identity, Pegging, Serial Killer!Thor, Sub!Thor, Vampire!Natasha, dom!Natasha, dub-con, human!AU, human!Thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For ActualOdinson's 30 Day Dark Fandom/OTP Challenge.  A collection of 30 short ficlets and one-shots revolving around, but not always exclusively, Thor and Natasha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 25 - Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Because I definitely don't have enough to do, right? Right. I'll warn per chapter, but just to keep in mind a lot of these ARE REALLY DARK. Thanks for reading, and welcome along for the wild ride!

“Should you really be drinking that?”  It was a stupid question, Natasha knew, and kicked herself even as the words came out of her mouth, even if it was his third glass of whiskey.  It took a moment but eventually Thor turned to look at her, blue eyes glassy, lips slightly parted as he drew slow, shaky breaths.  She couldn’t remember what it was like for his gaze to be clear, hadn’t for some time.  Slowly, cautiously, one of her hands moved over to take his, to squeeze it and possibly pry the glass from his fingertips, but he shrugged her off without another word, leaving behind the glass of liquor and instead taking the bottle with him as he moved.  

“I’ll drink what I want,” he said, turning away from her before he took a deep guzzle from the yellow bottle.  Her stomach clenched as she watched him sway towards his seat in front of the window, the one facing where Loki had once sat.  It’d been seven years since Thor’s brother had killed himself, seven years since they’d found him hanging from the rafters in his room, Natasha’s scream having been overshadowed by Thor’s bellow of disbelief as he’d tried to lift his little brother up to save him.  Two hours too late, as it was, if Loki’s note was anything to go off of, and honestly why had the bastard felt the need to give the time if not to make his elder brother feel worse about not stopping him?  

Even now he still haunted Thor, a spectre in the depths of her husband’s mind, one who she wondered if he’d ever be free of.  It was understandable to mourn, and she had been as supportive as she could be, had turned a blind eye when the drinking started, when he’d started throwing up his supper every evening and spending what money they’d been setting aside for vacation and eventually retirement on liquor.  

How much more could they stand?  How much more would she be willing to?  

She took a deep sigh and sat back down at the table, staring at the glass he’d left behind.  The amber liquid seemed so inviting, she couldn’t deny.  Warm, forgetful.  Peaceful.  

With a trembling hand she picked it up and moved to dump its contents down the drain, turned on the faucet in the sink and scrubbed dishes so hard she couldn’t hear Thor whispering to the ghost of his brother over the noise, begging him to come back, to stop, telling him he loved him and missed him.  She didn’t even notice she’d started crying, too used to the feel of cold salt-water streaming down her face to have been shocked by them.  

 


	2. 28 - Dating The Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets a little porny at the end, just a heads up. Thanks for reading!

She’d figured she had minutes to get out of the building before it began to collapse, when the reality was she barely had one, the rafters already creaking as the weight from the top became too much.  She was limping as it was when the first half of the building crashed down behind her, stumbling down the never ending staircase when she saw the man who’d created the damn problem at the bottom.  Her brow furrowed tight as she continued, leg smarting as she threw the empty gun she’d been saving at the bastard’s head.  He caught it in one of his enormous hands, smirking, and scooping her up soon as she was within arm’s distance.  

“You know you could’ve just lept into my arms,” he teased, throwing the gun to the ground as he made quick work of removing himself from the falling building.  

“Shut the fuck up and get me out of here,” she demanded, driving her fist into his hard chest.  Thor had been on SHIELD’s wanted radar ever since the incident in New Mexico, where he’d nearly gotten everyone killed by bringing the fight with his brother to earth, and Nat had been stationed with Phil at the time, having witnessed the whole thing.  The son of a bitch was arrogant, reckless, a pain in her ass, and fucking gorgeous, so not unlike many of the men she’d dealt with before.  She knew how to handle him, how to bring him to his knees, but when he pulled idiotic stunts like this to grab her attention?  Getting SHIELD to call her out to an abandoned building, collapsing it to make it seem as though she was trapped underneath and therefore diverting SHIELD’s attention so they could steal time away?  Well, she was freaking sick of it.  

“You’re such an ass,” she said as he burst through the back door, opposite of where the other SHIELD agents would be watching from the Quinjets.  They knew Thor was behind it, though with Nat’s com and tracker still in the rubble they would think he’d simply targeted and tried to take her out before he disappeared down alleyways, putting as much distance between them and the wreckage.  It would’ve been fine if Natasha’s leg didn’t hurt like a bitch, twinging with every jolt, and the way Thor was hauling ass there were plenty of them.  Dammit.  “What the hell was the point of this anyway?”  

He didn’t answer her until they were at least a good mile away, closing the door to what looked like an old, maybe even abandoned, apartment complex.  He flicked the deadbolt with a twitch of his wrist, before pressing a hand to the small gash she’d opened up in his side from her earlier fight with him and traced a symbol of some sort with his blood, already thick and beginning to coagulate though she’d only given him the wound ten or so minutes ago.  

“I missed you,” he said, turning his enormous blue eyes on her as his lips stretched into a wide, near obscene, grin.  It’d have been cute if she didn’t want to clock him.  

“You almost brought a building down on me.”

“But I didn’t.”

“You probably killed half a dozen other people who were nearby.”

“But you’re alive so what does it matter?”  

Yes, so long as the crown prince of Asgard got what he wanted, what did it matter how many plebeians died?  They’d had this conversation before, shouted, whispered, in the middle of sex, and each time it had gotten them nowhere.  Wisely, Natasha dropped it, allowing Thor instead to carry her up the stairs and into one of the opened up rooms.  It reeked of mildew and ozone, and the scorched runes on the floor showed that Thor had landed here before as he set her down on the couch to pull a small stone from his pocket.  He had no difficulty crushing it beneath his palm, and Natasha let a soft moan leave her lips as the pain receded immediately, the gash closing itself up and the piece of metal that’d been embedded in her thigh dissolving as though nothing had happened.  Not even a scar was left behind, she hated to admit.  She collected them after all and delighted in giving Thor more as much as he enjoyed looking at the ones he’d given her.  

“Is Asgard that boring that you must come to see me so often?”  She asked.  “I thought you liked your home.”

“I would enjoy it a great deal more if you were there with me.”

“I’m not leaving SHIELD.”

“I can offer you a great deal more than they ever could.”

“No.”

He opened his mouth to retort but she shoved him back, her eyes narrowing.  “I said no.  Now, did you bring me here to fight, or are you going to fuck me and show me how much you missed me?”

He shut his mouth.  A wise move.  Without further prelude he snatched her up and carried her towards the bedroom, though it was hardly larger than the sad excuse of a living room, and the bed had been sunk in.  He picked real winners, she couldn’t help but think with a smirk, even as he brought his lips to her throat and sucked hard enough to bruise.  It would lend a little credibility when she had to lie to them and say that she’d gotten stuck beneath the rubble, as would the bruises she knew his fingers would form when he held her by the hips and fucked into her hard enough to make her brain hit the walls of her skull, or the scratch and bite marks he’d trace down her body.  Those no one else would see but him, and she would whisper that she was his, all his, and it would make him fuck her all the harder.  She could already feel him enormous and hard against her thigh, and the thought of having him split her open once more, fuck her raw and dizzy until she didn’t know her heaven from hell, was enough to set her on fire right there.  The shitty apartment be damned, so long as he fucked her hard enough she could forget about it all, forget about the mess he’d made, the red added to her ledger.  Just for a little while she could stop being Natasha Romanov, SHIELD spy and former Soviet.  She could be reduced to nerve endings, to pleasure beyond what anyone on earth had ever given her, could be protected in the way he’d wrap his arms around her later that night as they fell asleep together.  She could be any girl off the street with a crazy boyfriend who knew how to make her scream like a siren and that?  That she could live with for the time, until reality would hit and she would look forward to the next time he stole her away.  

 

 


	3. 38 - Dominance/submission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, as far as I can tell no triggers in this chapter. It takes place in a D/s universe, but aside from that pretty consensual. Crazy. Hope you enjoy!

“Get down for me, love,” Natasha said from where she’d perched herself just beside the bed, smiling as Thor, having just entered the room and closed the door behind him, immediately sank to his knees.  She’d had him for a few months now, courtesy of some recent acquisition of a corporation named Asgard, and already he’d been the quickest to learn just how to make her happy, to obey her whenever she asked for anything.  She smiled as she carded her hands through his thick blond hair, taking a fistful of it and tipping his chin up to kiss his lips.  He responded with a soft moan, opening up for her without her even having to wait, all but pressing himself closer to her.  She grinned into the kiss.  That morning she’d left him with the worst case of blue balls she’d ever given, payback for the cheek he’d given her about not tiring him out last night.  Well, they’d see about that.  

“Have you been good for me today?”  She asked, pulling away from him to sit back in her chair.  His cock was outlined in his leather pants, thick and making her mouth water with the possibilities.  She had to be patient, though.  Had to let this play out.  

“Yes madam,” he said, voice gravel and sex wrapped into one sound, immediately tying her stomach into knots.  

“Haven’t played with yourself at all?”  She asked, voice quiet as her fingers tapped on the armrests of the chair.  

“No, madam.”  

“Take off your pants.”  

His fingers were sure as they unzipped his trousers, flicking the button with his thumb, before shucking them off.  His cock stood proud as all get out, flushed a deep red and leaking from the tip.  With one finger she motioned for him to turn around, and grinned to see the plug she’d put in his ass was still in place.  So he had been a good boy, then.  She sat forward in her chair, running one of her hands over his buttock, then the other, slapping it to bring color to his already golden skin.  He gave a quiet hiss of surprise but bit his tongue after that.  She didn’t like it when he made too much noise.  

“Such a good boy for me.”  She said, dipping her head to the side and biting his skin just below the ribs, sucking until it reddened.  He shivered, his body going tense for a moment, before relaxing underneath her careful touch.  His head lolled back and his hands tensed in front of him, fisting as he struggled to keep as quiet as he could.  The last thing he wanted was a repeat of when he’d made too much noise the time before; he could barely sit down for a week.  She noticed, grinning, and shifted the plug around in an attempt to get a sound from him, digging it into his prostate until he shuddered, his toes curling to keep from letting go.  

“Who do you belong to, Thor?”

“You, madam.”

She smiled, and once more her hand slapped his backside.  “Get onto the bed for me then, Thor.  Fix yourself up.”  

“Thank you, madam,” he said, and he did all that he could to not sound so excited.  Without waiting for another moment he stepped towards the bed.  From between the slats of the headboard was a leather leash, to which he connected his collar at the thick metal D-ring.  There was just enough slack for him to lower his head onto the bed, his backside presented to her, the deep red of the silicone plug catching the light slightly.  From where she sat, Natasha took her time to watch him, watched how he shook with desire for her to do with him as she wanted.  She wished she had even the slightest talent at drawing, doing everything she could to ingrain the image in her head.  Maybe she’d get Steve to come up and commission him to do a picture for her.  Wouldn’t it be worth it to see Fury’s face every time he walked into her office and saw that hanging on the wall?  

She left Thor there for a little while longer before getting to her feet and walking towards the night stand.  In the bottom drawer was a strap-on, a little bigger than the one she usually used, but she wanted to teach Thor a lesson after all.  It wouldn’t be complete without one last challenge.  Or two.  There was a bottle of lube right beside it, and after she shimmied out of her pants and underwear she fixed it on.  From the corner of her eye she caught Thor turning his head to look at her, and she smirked.  

“Face the other way, Thor.  Now.”

“Yes madam,” he said with a start, turning his head immediately so that he couldn’t see what was going on.  She much preferred to take her time, and with his eyes on her she wanted to take him hard, fast, to watch his eyes light up with pleasure.  Patience, she tried to remind herself.  She slowly made her way behind him, running the fingers of her left hand up and down his spine, humming quietly to herself before she began to run her nails down his skin.  With her right hand, she shifted the plug inside him again, easing it out inch by inch.  It was slightly smaller than the cock she’d fixed to her, but with enough lube--and so long as he stayed relaxed, most of the work would be done for her.  He drew a shaky breath, turning to bury his head in the pillow and biting into it when she finally removed the plug, only to drip the cold lube onto his ass, rubbing it into the red, puckered skin.  

“Do you think you deserve a reward for being so good, or ought I to still punish you for your cheek?  Have you learned your lesson?”  She asked, setting the plug down to the side of the bed along with the bottle, using what was left on her right hand to slick up her fake cock.  

“Yes madam.”  Came his muffled response.  Her left hand slapped his backside, making him jump and keen.  

“Yes, to what?”

“Yes, I’ve learned my lesson.  I promise, madam.”  She smiled and reached down to take his cock in hand, giving it a quick tug or two.  His back bowed, breaking free from where he’d nearly torn a hole into the pillow to gasp for air at the sweet sensation.  

“You’re sure?  Don’t you dare lie to me.”  She threatened, and her grip tightened just enough to make him groan, the noise choked as he tried to silence it before she heard too much.  

“I promise--I promise!  I’ve been good, I have.”  He gasped and tried to shift so he could get more friction, more heat, more near anything from her hand.  She, in turn, removed it so that he was left, once more, aching and wanting more.  It was almost too much, and she swore she could smell the salt of his frustrated tears already.  Good.  She liked him that way.  Taking her dildo, she slowly lined the head up with his still loose ass, pushing in the first inch before he tensed too much for her to get any further.  

“Thor,” she admonished, tone disbelieving.  Really, and he’d promised he’d be good.  It barely took him a moment before his body went lax beneath her, and she pressed in the next six inches or so, not stopping until she was fully seated inside of him.  She tilted her hips up, just slightly, so the next time she thrust inward, the head of the dildo hit his prostate.  Hard.  She made sure it nearly rocked his body, and his howl of pleasure was muffled by the pillow.  She punctuated the slap on his ass with another thrust, telling him to keep quiet, before setting into a quick rhythm.  Her fingers wrapped around his hips as she began to slam him back onto her, not wishing to do any more work than she had to.  It was his responsibility to chase his own orgasm, after all.  She wasn’t about to make it any easier.  

Besides, she wanted to see if he could really come untouched.  Somehow she didn’t doubt it.  Beneath her hands, his once golden, perfect skin was becoming blotchy and reddened by her attention to it, and soon enough she released his hips and forced him to still.  It was a miracle he didn’t groan in disbelief, and Nat took that as a congratulations.  When she’d first met him he’d been so vocal it’d been damn ridiculous.  Now?  

“If you want to come tonight you’re going to have to do all the work.  Fuck yourself on my cock,” she said, leaning forward to slip her fingers around his collar and tug.  He choked, the pressure from being caught in place, and her own tug, adding pressure to his windpipe, just enough to get his attention, and once he started moving of his own volition she switched her grip to his hair, tugging at it as he rode her.  He learned quickly how to angle his own pelvis so that each thrust offered maximum pleasure, and it wasn’t long before he was near at his wits end, his movements growing shaky and hasty, tunnel vision setting in as he chased his climax.  

“Beg me for it, Thor.”  Natasha demanded, though her voice was marred by her own arousal.  She loved watching him obey her without another word, loved to see him listen to her every word as though his life depended on it.  That he was so compliant was near a bigger turn on than him babbling about needing to come, than him begging her to touch him, to let him finish.  She dug her hands firmly into his sides, forcing him to slow down, and the whine that came out was broken as his voice cracked.  

“You want to come, Thor?  Little cub?”  She asked, stroking his hair.  Ever since he’d first come in he’d reminded her of a lion, and hell the first time they’d fucked it’d been animalistic enough.  But now?  He was near as tame as a kitten.  He shuddered under her touch and nickname, bobbing his head.  

“Yes, please.  Please, madam.  I need--I’m begging you--pleasepleaseplease.”  He gasped, hardly able to draw breath.  She thrust herself in once, twice more, her hips slapping against his backside as he keened, before she finally told him it was alright.  It only took a few more thrusts before he was coming apart, untouched, white, hot come shooting onto his chest and the sheets beneath them as he near fell apart beneath her.  She slowed her thrusts, taking care to avoid that sensitive spot inside him out of courtesy, though the next time he sassed off to her, she thought, she’d pound away at it until he screamed for her to stop.  Her own arousal burned low in her gut, and as she pulled out she figured she’d deal with it later, make him make it up to her however he thought appropriate.  She smiled at the thought, easing him down onto the bed away from where he’d spilt himself.  After putting away the toys to be cleaned and stowed away for later use, she moved to the bathroom and returned with a wash cloth, wiping him off with a gentle hand.  

“Do you feel better, cub?”  She asked, voice sweet as she stroked his hair with a free hand, dabbing at the marks she’d left on his back with the cloth.  He didn’t even flinch any more, nodding and turning his head as close to her palm as he could, rubbing against it.  She smiled and kissed his forehead.  “Good boy.”  

 

 


	4. 41 - Anonymity Cop!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a monster. And gets a little dub-conny near the end, I'll admit. Choking/asphyxiation trigger warning for this one.  
> Other than that, hope you enjoy it!

If she was honest with herself, then yes, she was nervous.  How could she not be?  She smoothed the  low cut red dress down over her stomach, flattening the silk so that no matter how twisted her insides were, at least nothing was out of the ordinary on the outside.  Clint walked in from the other room, holding a small, flesh-colored device in his fingers and offering it to her.  He looked as nervous as she felt, and she forced herself to smile.  It would be fine.  So long as she kept telling herself that then it would all turn out alright in the end.  Self fulfilling prophecy and all that shit.  

“Here’s your earpiece.  Small enough not to be conspicuous, and I don’t think he’ll try looking in your ear,” Clint said, trying to crack a grin of his own.  “We’ll be able to hear everything, and you remember the code to get us in the room, right?”

“Caw-Caw Motherfucker.”  That added some truth behind her smile as she stifled a snort.  Was he always so creative, she wondered?  They’d only been working together for the past few weeks, trying to gather evidence about Thor Odinson, heir to the enormous Asgard Security Corporation, and their leading suspect for the recent deaths of no less than ten women in the past ten months.  He’d yet to make his kill this month, and the thought made Natasha’s throat itch and burn, as though imagining that his hands were already wrapping around them, crushing the life out of her.  They’d made contact online for the past few days, the idea having been her own that, if she could just get him to meet her the same way that he’d met the other ten women, at least she’d be able to confirm whether or not he was one.  It was the only lead, the only sliver of hope they had at catching him.  His internet records were out of their hands unless they could find some sort of proof to link them to what was going on.  

His request to meet Natasha at the The Carlyle, for her to wear red, and to come alone and ready were more than enough to warrant some pause when compared to the exact same instructions the previous ten women had gotten after he’d chatted them up online.  All that was missing was the final bits of proof.  

Natasha was getting sick of the worried face Clint kept trying to hide from her, and she sighed before resting a hand on his shoulder.  

“Hey, I’ll be fine.  I want to do this.  Knowing that you’ll be close by helps more than you know.”  

“You know I’ve got your back,” he promised.  She nodded.  It did help, and she steeled herself for the evening to come, wishing there was some way she could sneak one of her guns in with her without it being too conspicuous.  She’d thought about bringing a bag big enough, but he’d asked for her to bring very little.  He’d provide the rest, he promised.  She tried not to think about what that could mean.  

 

Two hours later found her waiting in the bar at the hotel, sipping on a heavily watered down vodka tonic and wishing to God that she was allowed to actually have a real drink before . . . before whatever was coming up.  She was proud of herself for keeping her body from shaking, but mentally?  She kept glancing at the door every other second, it felt, and her stomach was barely able to handle what little she was putting into it.  In her ear, Clint whispered that he and the others were getting into position in the room just beside the one that Thor had booked for the evening, under the same name he’d given her in their chat conversations: Theo Livingston.  It was all fair play, she supposed, though he thought her to be Natalie Rushman, from some podunk town in the midwest, who’d disappeared off to New York in search of some adventure.  He’d promised her she’d find some excitement that evening, and though she’d played it off as coolly as she could online her gut clenched at the thought of what he found to be exciting.  

Despite all of her not so sneaky glances to the door, she completely missed the hand tapping her gently on the shoulder, making her start as she whipped around and found herself face to face with her mark.  

It really wasn’t fucking fair that he was so damn handsome.  The tabloids barely did him any justice, and she’d been careful to keep away from actually seeing him in person lest he recognize her.  His lips parted in an easy grin as he held both of his hands in front of him, as though surrendering.  “Apologies.  Natalie?”  

“Yeah,” she let an easy, breathy laugh leave her lips.  “Sorry--you just startled me is all. I’m not, well, you know, used to this sort of swanky thing.  I thought they’d be telling me to leave or something,” she admitted, her voice far more chipper than she felt, and her eyes falling to the floor as she nervously tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, worrying at her bottom lip.  When she raised her eyes once more it was to find his own watching her very, very closely.  

“Why on earth would they throw a woman as lovely as you out?  You lighten up the room; it would be a travesty to take you away, yet I am the bastard lucky enough to get you all to myself.”  

He was a charmer, there was no denying that, and she felt her cheeks reddening at the compliment until she was certain she matched the color of her dress and hair.  “You’re too sweet.  Really.”  

“Not nearly enough,” he murmured as he reached to take her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it.  The rough scratch of his beard on her skin sent chills up her body and nearly forced a gasp from her lips had she not had as good a control on herself as she did.  He noticed the slight hitch in her breath either way, and grinned as he tugged her forward, off her barstool.  Even with her heels he towered over her, leading her with a hand on her exposed lower back towards the elevator.  There was little small talk between them, Thor’s thumb smoothing over her skin as he tried to ease the tension he thought coming from her anxiety about the situation.

“Have you ever done anything like this before, Natalie?”  He asked, smiling as he brought his lips to her hair.  

She shook her head, swallowing thickly as she looked up at him and bit her lip slightly.  “Have you?”

“Once or twice,” he admitted with a chuckle, and she filed it away for later.  “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Oh, good,” she gave a breathy laugh.  “Though you, well, you don’t have to go too easy.  I’m stronger than I look.  Promise.”  

Beside her he tensed, his hand stopping for just a moment, just long enough to terrify her that she’d done something wrong.  Oh shit, she hadn’t let on more than she’d mean to, had she?  

He gave a low groan and tipped her head up to capture her lips in a searing kiss, pushing past her lips without issue until she nipped at his lower lip.  From the angle that he was pressed up against her she could feel him hard and throbbing against her hip, and she shuddered at that.  Fuck.  

“Natalie you have no idea how pleased that makes me,” he hummed against her lips when he finally pulled away, eyes lidded and breathing labored.  She was feeling the same, one of her hands still stuck in his long blond hair where she’d been holding onto for dear life.  

“Think I’m getting the idea,” she said, shifting her body against his erection, smirking as he gave a low groan.  

“I would take you right here if I could get away with it,” he muttered, getting rather close to the earpiece.  Her heart jolted and she tipped her chin up, rising onto her tip toes, to capture his lips in hers, shoving him hard back against the wall.  He froze, and she rocked her hips against his to get him to loosen up, hoping she wasn’t overstepping her boundaries.  He’d seemed to like them docile, but, well, she had her identity to keep hidden first and foremost.  

What was more he responded soon after, hands reaching around to cup her well-sculpted backside, his groan flitting through her body as he squeezed it appreciatively, bringing her to stand between his parted legs.  She could very nearly feel him right where she wanted him, right where he wanted to be, and just as she’d bucked her hips once more the elevator gave a soft ‘ding’ to announce they’d made it to their floor.  

The pair of them flew apart, Natasha’s once perfect red lipstick smeared all over Thor’s mouth, and with an uncharacteristic giggle she reached out to help fix the situation before the doors opened, revealing a less than enthused looking man and wife.  Hiding her mouth behind her hand, Thor took her other and led her out, past the glowering couple, and towards his room before they both burst into laughter.  His shook his whole body and filled the room like thunder, crashing over her as he pulled her over to his side with his arm wrapped around her waist.  

“Where did you learn to kiss like that, Natalie?”  He asked, sliding his hand out of hers so he could reach for the key card, sliding it into the lock.  She noticed, with a breath of relief, that they’d gotten the room right after all.  

“Girl’s summer camp, junior year of high school?”  She provided.  “Uh, Mary Palmer and I were determined to not make a big deal of our first kiss, so we just did it with each other.”  

He stilled and she could practically smell the lust and desire emanating off of him.  Well at least it’d done the trick, as though she needed any more help.  

“Really?”  He asked.  

She nodded, giving an embarrassed laugh before twirling a strand of her red hair around her finger.  “Yeah.  She was pretty good.”  

“That . . . well, I’ll be thinking about that for quite some time,” Thor admitted, his eyes bright as they caught hers before he swung the door open for her.  

“I hope so,” she said as she passed him, a more confident tilt in her hips as she walked.  As expected, the room was lavishly decorated, courtesy of the ritzy hotel, and he already had a bag waiting on the table beside the bed.  Quickly, she took stock of the room, figuring she had to she could reach for the lamp and smash it against his head, use the glass to her best advantage.  There was a mirror on the other side of the wall she could try and throw him into if she needed, and, well, she always had her high heels.  She’d seen a man impaled with one before right through the eye, and if it came down to it her life was far more valuable than the completion of the mission, especially if they got to close it even after the fucker was dead rather than giving him the deal the DA would inevitably provide.  

Assessment of the room completed, she worried at her bottom lip and turned once she heard the click of the door, the deadbolt sliding into place soon after.  Now her heart went crazy, thudding a murderous, traitorous beat as he stalked towards her, blue eyes narrowed in his desire and fixed solely on her.  She swallowed thickly and took a few playful steps backwards as he grew closer, looking up at him through her eyelashes.  

“Are you sure you’re ready?”  He asked, voice a rumble that made his chest vibrate against where she’d pressed her hand, keeping him barely an arms length away.  

“Yes, sir.”  She said, hiding a shaky intake of breath with a demure smile.  A groan slipped from his lips as he kissed her again, walking her backwards so that the back of her knees hit the bed.  He reached into the bag and pulled out a blindfold, pressing it against her eyes and gently tying it around her head so that all she could see was the silk black lining.  Her breath caught in her throat.  

“Undress yourself, slowly,” he commanded, breath warm against her ear, nibbling on her earlobe before he moved away.  She could hear the rustle of his feet on the plush carpet, the creak of furniture he’d likely taken a seat on, and her fingers worked at the red tie just under her breasts, pulling one of the edges slowly, tantalizing him.  

“Put that off to the side,” his order came from a little further away, so she was right to assume he’d sat on the other side of the room, watching her as though this was his own private show.  She tried not to think of how many other women he’d gotten to do the same thing before he ended their lives.  Her fingers ran up the curves of her body, over the tight fabric of the dress, before she worked the zipper at the back down, pulled her arms free, and shimmied out of the confining garment.  His answering groan set her stomach on fire.  She looked damn good in the black lace bra she’d picked out, she knew, but hearing him react . . . well, she couldn’t fake the arousal it inspired in her, knowing that he had no real concept of who she was, or what she did, but she turned him on none the less.  

“You are gorgeous,” he said, and there was another creak, as though he was sitting forward.  “Step closer.  Follow my voice, there’s nothing in the way.”  He sounded as though he was smiling, and in good natured amusement she held out her hands, blindly making her way towards where she thought he sat, feeling for him all the while.  All the while he called her lovely, gorgeous, and many other variations of it, all until she felt one of his arms, divested of the suit jacket and instead wearing what felt like a soft dress shirt, wrap around her waist and plop her down onto his still pants-clad thigh.  His lips were warm and brought a shocked moan from her lips as they mouthed her through the fabric of her bra, one of his hands pushing the flimsy material down so he could suckle her properly.  

She keened, back arching to give him a better angle, tangling her hands in his hair, pulling it from the ponytail he’d held it in before.  She could only imagine what he looked like, golden head bent, his palms smoothing over her skin and setting it on fire at the same time, gaze fixed intently on how her skin pebbled and broke out into goosebumps under his touch.  His beard scratched, tickling her skin and tantalizing her with the promise of what would happen if he went a little lower.  Just a bit further south.  His teeth flashed to nip at the bottom of her breast and she let out a guttural, surprised shout.  Shit.  

“Mm, much as I love hearing you, you need to be quiet little one,” Thor murmured, moving to pay attention to her other breast, deftly removing her bra with a flick of his wrist and throwing it somewhere across the room, judging by the far away noise it made as it hit the carpet.  She rolled her hips against his, feeling how hard he was, and before she knew what was going on he had her flipped around so that his lips were on the back of her throat, her hands perched on the inch or so of seat between his wide parted legs.  

“Stand up,” he ordered quietly, and she obeyed without hesitation, feeling very much weightless as she did, as though his touch had gotten her drunk on sensation.  Was this how he got his victims so calm, and placid, before he killed them?  She shuddered to think.  

One of his hands reached out to stroke her backside, massaging one cheek at a time as she heard the snap of a button, followed by the undoing of a zipper and a shuffle of clothing.  When her breath caught in her throat he smacked her hard on the left cheek.  This time she bit her tongue to keep from shouting and his deep laugh made her all the wetter.  

“That’s my girl.”  

God, why did he have to be a possible murderer?

He shimmied her out of her lace panties, taking one of her hands in his to help steady her when he ordered her to step out of them.  As he brought her backwards she wondered what sort of game was he playing--.

And as he slid her down onto his lap, and straight onto his cock, she gasped and realized just how good the bastard really was.  He was bigger than she’d expected, and she bit down so hard on her bottom lip that she split it, tasting blood as he rocked his hips upwards to force the last few inches into her.  A squeak barely managed to make it out of her mouth before he was immediately raising her back up and slamming her down again.  She did what she could to keep her whimpering and moaning under control, letting a few slip out every so often.  He took her hands in his and positioned them behind his neck so that she was laying flat against him, ordered her to keep her hands there no matter what, before he proceeded to lift her up and down on him, his teeth worrying and mouth sucking at her now exposed throat.  She felt combustible, as though at any moment she’d burst into flame.  He was heaven--he felt so fucking good, she didn’t even notice her first orgasm--.  

Until his hand wrapped around her neck, tightening far more than they ought to have, and she barely had breath to squeak out a plea for help.  

“Oh no, there’s no help for you,” Thor growled in her ear, pumping all the harder into her as his hand tightened.  There was hardly any time, Nat struggling to free herself from his hold, fingernails scratching at his own but he was so fucking strong.  

“Caw-C-caw motherfucker,” she gasped, trying to lean herself up and off of him, even as she felt, rather than heard, him grunt and with one final thrust pushed himself over the edge.  His hand only tightened as he finished, and though the edges of the blindfold were beginning to come away she felt the lack of oxygen quickly catching up to her, blackening everything else without the need for the sight deterrent.  

The door crashed down a moment later with shouts of “NYPD LET HER GO!”

And everything went dark for a little while.  

 

She wore the marks around her neck, of how he’d tried to strangle her, like a damn badge of honor, not caring about the double-takes she got from passersby on the street at the hand-shaped bruises covering her pale skin.  Truth be told, they covered the hickeys he left her well enough, and it was proof enough for her that she’d--she, Natasha Romanov--had helped catch the bastard who’d been killing innocent girls just to get his rocks off.  After their little stunt had fallen through, and Nat had come back to consciousness, they’d managed to get a subpoena from Judge Hill to search through Thor’s apartments, and from there gathered the evidence to convict him.  He was going away for a very, very long time, or at least would be.  As it was, Nat had pulled a few strings to get him cornered in one of their more secure rooms, the ones used for interviewing people not comfortable with the idea of others being able to see them.  What was more, she’d managed to convince the tech guys to check the cameras for a good hour or so.  It was all she needed, really.  

She sauntered into the room, the corners of her lips turning upwards as she caught sight of Thor, shackled to his seat and glaring murderously at her as she shut and locked the door behind her.  Well, wasn’t that familiar?  Again, she had the ear piece that Barton had given her before, but only he would be able to hear it.  Just in case.  

“Funny how the tables turn so quickly,” Nat couldn’t help but murmur as she stood wide-stanced and smirking before him, head tipped slightly to the side.  His eyes fixed on her throat.  She was willing to put money that the only thing he could think, right then, was that he wished he’d squeezed harder.  

“This is so fucking illegal I’ll have your fucking badge for a Christmas ornament, and if you think you’re gonna get some sort of confession or something then I’m gonna--.”

“Oh no.  No.  I don’t need a confession to put you away.  Think of this as a send off.”  She said, already beginning to shrug off the jacket she’d worn, revealing she was wearing little to nothing underneath.  “One.  Final.  Hurrah.”  

His eyes widened, and whatever he’d been prepared to say was lost as she stalked closer to him, very much in control, very much wanting him to know it.  His legs were parted, and chained to the chair legs, and when she moved closer to palm him through the thin pair of jeans he’d been brought in with he tightened beneath her touch, body responding without him wanting it to.  He gritted his teeth as she grinned and kissed him.  

“Maybe I should leave you blue balled and aching, no dead corpse for you to get your rocks off to,” she hummed against his lips.  

“Bite me, Rushman,” he snarled, pulling away.  

She laughed.  “Close, but that’s not my name, Thor,” she hummed.  “Now.  Two ways we can do this.  I fuck you, and give you the last great orgasm you’ll probably ever have as a thanks for the incredible--albeit rudely interrupted one--you gave me, or I put my coat back on and you go to prison anyway.  Which’ll it be?”  She asked, as if she didn’t know, as if she couldn’t tell by the way his blue eyes set and his jaw clenched, etching a fine line of fury and disbelief that she’d beaten him in his face.  

He surged forward to press his lips hard to hers, and she groaned, grabbing his hardened cock through the fabric of his jeans and rubbing it, perhaps putting a little more pressure on it than he’d liked based on the high-pitched keen that started in his throat.  Already turned on by the prospect of having beaten him, Nat undid his pants quickly enough with one hand, and slid onto him with ease after shifting her panties to the side.  He felt as great as she remembered, and this time, with her in charge, her arousal was heated all the more.  She grinned, facing him and forcing him to burn her face into his mind.  The woman who’d beaten him, who he’d thought weak enough to try and destroy had risen up to take him down, and was claiming him as her own.  His eyes fixed on the bruises around her throat and she heard the shackles around his wrists, keeping him hooked to the chair, clang as he tried to break them off.  He was certainly strong, the muscles in his arms bulging as he tried to break the metal.  Just not strong enough.  It only made her bounce herself on him all the harder, grinning when she watched his breath grow shorter, her false name ghosting on his lips as she watched his eyes zero in on her breasts as she moved.  

She didn’t last much longer after that, one last, drawn out moan leaving her lips in a soft sigh.  True to her word she let him finish, too, swiveling her hips and plunging herself down on him again and again until he finished.  She pulled off just as she felt his muscles tighten, and his come splattered against his ratty t-shirt, the last reminder she could give him that he would never win.  Not against her.  He swore at her in some language, sounding Scandinavian in origin, but she just kissed him lightly on the cheek once more, cleaned herself off, and zipped him back up before making herself presentable enough to leave.  

“What’s your name, really?” He demanded just as her hand fell on the door, Barton in her ear telling her that Fury was heading down there to figure out what the hell had happened.  

“You don’t need to know my name.  Makes it more poetic that the only one you’ve considered screaming belongs to a person who doesn’t exist.”  She didn’t turn to address him, grinning, before unlocking the door and heading back out.  She needed a drink, after a little well deserved personal time.    

 

 


	5. 43 - Bloodplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor bloodplay trigger warning--by minor I mean Thor just doesn't give two craps when Nat cuts him. Also, round two of the anon's request for Thortasha with heels. I couldn't help myself. Hope you enjoy!

Nat had stopped struggling against her bindings five or so minutes ago, arms having gone numb from how they’d been shackled in thick, heavy metal behind her back, contrasting sharply with the soft red fabric of what seemed to be a prison of sorts.  Her captor, the enormous hammer wielding monster of a man who’d crashed her fucking mission hadn’t been there when she’d woken up, and if he never came back she’d be entirely fine with that.  All she needed was something metal, something small enough to be able to try and pick the lock--what she’d do for her her belt, but it hadn’t been necessary for the op she’d been on --.

The flap of the tent she’d been deposited into opened, revealing the last person she’d wanted to see, his silhouette enough to make her go incredibly still.  Had he come back to gloat, she wondered?  To rub it in her face that he’d caught her even though she’d fought and did everything she could to destroy him when he’d come after her?  Judging by the small smile that spread over his lips, yes.  At the very least if she could get him talking then there was a good chance she could figure his plan out.  She pulled herself in closer, taking stock of the situation as she tugged her legs up to her chest, the hem of her dress sliding up her legs, muddied from when she’d fought against the brute and torn in some places.  The slide of fabric, the slow reveal of skin to his eyes, caught his attention and held it a moment longer than was necessary.  Good.  

“Who are you?”  The man asked, stepping in front to watch as her heels dug into the dirt floor, her head tipping to the side.  

“That’s a bit of a loaded question,” she told him in all seriousness.  Really?  He expected an answer?  “You haven’t exactly given me a name, either.  Or why you crashed the party I was attending,” she listed.  If they were going to play some sort of question game then she had several up her sleeve that could use a lot of answers.  He didn't seem remotely deterred.  If anything he grinned all the more broadly, reaching up to start unfastening the buckles of his armor, removing the breast plate and setting it to the side before removing his tunic.  Really?  Was this supposed to impress her?  She feigned interest (half feigned, really.  He was gorgeous, she hated to admit) and from the way his smile widened that was the reaction he was going for.  She watched as he folded his arms over his chest and felt herself swallow instinctively, pressing her thighs together and keying into the way his eyes followed the shift of her own bared skin.  Easy enough.  

“My name is Thor, and I crashed, as you say, your party because I mean to take this world and your people have provided excellent sport.  You, especially.  You are a warrior.”  

Yes, she supposed there was no hiding that now that they’d had a physical feud.  She nodded.  

“You do not dress like it.”

“Not everyone has the luxury of wearing a breastplate and cape, Thor,” she countered, lips forming his name and finding she didn’t care for it too much.  She would not be using it unless it would be advantageous to her.  

His laugh filled the tent as he stepped towards her and tipped her chin up so that her neck crooked painfully at the angle.  

“Your name, my fearsome warrior.”  

Well now he was just asking for trouble.  Her jaw clenched in irritation at the possessive nature of his words. “Natalia,” she said without hesitating.  His hand tightened on her chin.  Any more pressure and he might start to crack the bone.  Tears sprang in the corners of her eyes against her will.  

“Your true name.”  

“Natasha.”  She barely managed to squeak, allowing herself a small gasp as he released her chin.  His hand instead traveled to her shoulder, grasping her hard and pulling up to her feet, Nat stumbling a little on numbed feet, the arch they’d been forced into thanks to the hells she’d been wearing aching as blood rushed to her limbs once more.  Damn, that sucked.  She’d never be able to run away like that.  He must’ve known it, too, one of his hands slipping behind her to pull at the shackles.  There was a small snikt, as the metal rustled, then with a click the handcuffs released her wrists, falling to the ground where Thor kicked them away.  He grinned, as though waiting for her to thank him, when instead she reached with half-dead fingers to his side where she’d seen a knife strapped to his trousers and pulled it out, slashing at his throat with it.  Her retaliation set him stumbling backwards, yet rather than call the hammer as she’d seen him do the first time they fought he let himself be moved backwards as she slashed at him again, this time catching the upper half of his left arm yet left little more than a scratch.  Dammit all.  She tried again, and again he dodged the attacks, moving backwards and laughing.  He was fucking laughing at her, as though this was a game to him, nothng more than a training excersize, and she was doing poorly.  It infuriated her further, and this time she tried to sink the knife into his heart, hoping if she could get the angle just right she’d puncture the organ.  Assuming they even had one.  He was bleeding from several different scratches this time, and as she brought her fist down with the dagger in hand he caught it and flipped her around with ease, twisting her arm until she shouted in surprise and dropped the knife.  Right into his willing hand.  

“I know you can fight better than that,” Thor murmured in her ear, kissing the lobe of it before biting hard.  She hated that it made her groan and her knees go weak, as though he’d read exactly what she liked, and she could feel the same blade now pressed against her throat.  Well, that was it, then.  There was no chance she’d get away now that she’d made an attempt on his life, and she welcomed the release with only one regret, that she hadn’t told Shield what was happening.  He brought the knife slowly downwards, slicing at the dress until it fell off her shoulders and she shuddered in the cold wind.  Above head she heard the clouds rumbling, welcoming a storm, as the fabric covering her fell to the ground.  Thor started peppering her neck with kisses and bites, teasing the skin between his teeth as she felt her nervous system grow more inflamed, hating that she liked this, but at the same time thinking quickly about how she could use this to her advantage.  He hadn’t minded it when she came after him with a knife, had almost enjoyed it, and so she reached for it once more.  His fingers refused to relent it, but he did let her guide it, and as she turned herself around as gracefully as she could, she pushed it closer to him so the blade nicked the corner of his abs.  He shuddered, the blood beading on the cut, and with another hand, Nat pressed her nail into the cut and spread the blood around.  He shivered, groaning quietly, and her own mouth felt curiously dry.  

In no time he had her thrown onto the gigantic fur covered bed near the center of the tent, undoing his tented breeches and shoving them to the ground with his boots, allowing her an eyeful of his already hardened cock, the tip flushed red with arousal.  Again she felt herself involuntarily swallowing and wished her body would stop betraying her as it did, wished she hadn’t been conditioned to find weaknesses in sex and yet simultaneously was glad she had been.  If this got her out of the situation then it was all the better to at least be able to find pleasure in something useful.  As he drew closer she thrust one of her legs out, pressing the tip of her stiletto against his throat, tipping her head upwards in clear defiance.  He grinned, leaning slightly closer so that the tip of it nearly broke the skin, before pushing it to the side and kissing his way up her leg and inner thigh.  Her other leg found his shoulder and tried to kick him back, but he pushed it out of the way as well, maneuvering it so that it was pinned underneath him and unable to move, while her other leg was hefted over his shoulder.  His mouth kissed all the way until he reached her slit, uncovered.  The dress hadn’t warranted wearing panties, and as she’d been intending on seducing and killing her mark she’d thought them all the more irrelevant.  

Not that she heard Thor complaining, certain that the groan coming from his mouth was one out of appreciation, and she hated herself for going rigid and gasping in surprise as he brought his tongue to her clit, swirling it around before sucking hard enough to make her shout.  One of her hands reached for his hair, grinding her slit on his face.  If he was going to pleasure her, well, she wasn’t about to say no, though the way he was ensuring she was sopping wet, and from how hard he was, she was willing to bet it was more to save himself the pain of too much friction rather than any consideration for herself.  Sure enough, he didn’t let her finish that way, leaving her at the very brink as he kissed his way up her body.  Without so much as another word he lined their hips up and thrust into her.   _Hard_.  The wind was knocked from her lungs as she clawed at the furs, then at his back, feeling his skin rip beneath her fingernails.  He groaned in pleasure, filling her up and battering her g-spot with his thick head as he gave a couple added shallow thrusts inwards, before tugging Natasha up so that she was almost eye to eye, sitting up and holding him around the neck to keep herself from falling backwards.  Though one of her legs was sandwiched between them it hardly seemed to deter Thor, who’d begun thrusting into her in earnest, each one of them so quick and filling her so completely that she hardly had time to breathe in between.  

“Who do you belong to?”  Thor growled into her ear, biting it and making her shout in surprise as her back arched, her breasts pressed against the sweaty skin of his chest, the friction on her already overly sensitive skin fraying what nerves she had left.  

“F-fuck you,” she managed to gasp, and he laughed as he thrust even harder into her, so hard she was sure she felt her bones shaking with the effort not to snap.  

“I believe I am fucking you.”  He said, even as she managed to move her foot slightly to dig the hell into his back.  Even that wouldn’t make him slow down or stop, and Nat wasn’t sure how much more her nerves could handle.  “But I won’t even consider stopping until you tell me what I want to hear.”

Her jaw clenched hard, her eyes narrowing.  Bullshit.  He might’ve called himself a god, but she was better than he could imagine at getting men to finish.  And so the third fight between them began, Natasha pulling out all of her best tricks, clenching hard around him to heighten the sensation for them both, adding a swivel of hip every so often.  She even managed to push him backwards and ride him as hard as she could, bouncing herself on his cock and moving his hands to her breasts to try and force him to come, but all it did was make him sit up, wrap her legs around his waist, and take over, fucking up into her rather than allowing her to have any more control.  She lost track of how many times she’d come, and the pleasure was starting to fade out, to turn from something she’d never felt before to discomfort as she felt her next orgasm beginning to crest.  She couldn’t take much more of it, and hated herself for bringing her forehead to his shoulder as he jackhammered into her and murmured his name into his shoulder.  

She felt his grin against her skin and hated him for it.  Loved what he did to her body, but _hated_ him for it.  

“Tell me, my Natasha,” he said, and she heard his voice growing raspy as he finally, _finally_ neared his fucking climax.  She hoped.  “Who do you belong to?”

“To you.  Thor.”  She gasped, eyes wet with tears as her body went rigid and the last orgasm shocked her so much that she had to slump in his arms right afterwards, entirely spent and barely breathing.  He came soon after, spending himself inside her, the sensation warming even as it dripped out from inside and she felt her body try to be aroused by it.  Tried and failed, miserably.  

He kissed her throat and laid her back on the bed, drawing the covers up around the pair of them, Thor still seated inside Natasha.  “You fight as hard as you fuck.” He purred.  “I shall keep you, my Natasha.  I will drape you in jewels and silks, and everyone will know, once I have conquered this planet, that they bow to me, and I bow to you.”

In her delirious state she tried not to think that that didn’t sound so bad after all.  It was just the exhaustion, she swore.  It had to be.  

 

 


	6. 28 - Darkness

How it happened Nat didn’t know.  Didn’t want to know.  If she found out who did it it meant she’d have to leave Thor’s side to crush whoever was responsible under her boot before dragging their broken, bloody carcass behind her to show the world what would happen to anyone who fucked with her man.  As it was when Thor was brought through the Bifrost with Sif’s help, and his eyes were white as the clouds above, her heart sank. She rushed to his side, and even before she got to him he turned his head to better hear her.  His hands fidgeted nervously, murmuring her name as she took his hands in hers.  

“He can't--we don’t know if--,” Sif was choking on her fear, and that above all else made Nat’s heart jump, confirming the worst.  Standing on her toes she cupped either side of Thor’s face with her hands, crushing her lips to his.  Breathing him in.  He was alive.  He was still warm beneath her fingertips, thank whoever it was that controlled the fate of them all.  

“Natasha,” he croaked, leaning forward so his forehead could rest against hers.  Even without his vision he knew how to slot his hand on the crook of her neck, how to wrap one arm around her waist to keep her close.  

“The healers were uncertain--they don’t know if I will regain it.  Amora has tried to help but--.”  His voice cut out, far more gruff and thick with emotion than she’d ever heard.  He smoothed his thumb over her cheek.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.  Don’t you dare apologize.  You did nothing wrong,” she insisted, voice as sturdy as she could make it.  He chuckled.  

“Even without my eyes I can imagine you in your warrior’s glory,” he said, cut off by a half choked sob.  She shook her head, hearing the sky rumble above them as she stood tall to kiss him once more.  

 

They got him a dog to help when Natasha was forced from his side to go on mission, and between the two of them and the golden lab they would make it work.  For the first week Thor raged, turning the skies purple with his fury and not being able to help stitch Nat up after a mission, that he couldn't spar, or watch the Midgardian television.  If it hadn’t been for Jarvis and Blanke, as he’d named the dog, he’d have torn the place apart with his rage.  He was not meant to stay inside, cooped up as he was, but they knew it was far worse of an idea to let him outside.  Arguably one of the better recognized Avengers it would be too dangerous for him to be so vulnerable out in the open.  No one said this, of course.  Blind or not, he could still throw a punch with the force of a speeding bullet.  

Some days Nat read to him, regaling him with her stories of her missions both past and present, as well as fictitious ones by Martin, Tolkien, Jordan, Lackey.  Whoever she could get her hands on.  Fantasies worked best, his own imagination supplying him with images far more creative and spectacular than what they could ever capture on film.  She hoped.  It calmed him down, either way, and with his hand in hers, his head on her shoulder, and with Blake at their feet, it was the best she could’ve hoped for.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry it's taking forever and a year to update these.


	7. 11 - Obsession, Stalking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A WARNING! This starts off pretty dub-con/non-conny, but is in fact consensual. If you are easily creeped out by that, though, please don't read.   
> That being said: Vampire!Natasha and Human!Thor. Happy [early] Halloween!

This night was different than all the others  The moon was high and full, buffeting soft clouds bast her taut, alabaster skin, and Nat’s excitement piqued when she caught sight of him exiting his apartment.  She’d taken up across the street, keen blue eyes watching with eager interest as he shrugged on his jacket, covering the broad expanse of golden skin that admittedly made her mouth water.  She so rarely got to see him, actually see him without being so far away, worried about losing him if her timing wasn’t right, but she was done waiting.  Quick as she dared, after seeing him prepare to walk across the street she sank into the shadows of the alleyway and pulled her jacket off to throw it to the side.  The scent of blood pricked her nose, strong enough to hopefully lure him.  Just as he passed by she slumped against the wall with a whimper, a muffled sob.  She struggled to get up, her whole body trembling with the effort, and only fell back with a groan of pain and disbelief.  Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks just as she heard footsteps growing nearer to her.  

“Hey, what happened?  Where are you hurt?”  A thick, masculine voice said softly, and as she blinked back tears she looked up at the tall blond.  Perfect.  She shifted, lips moving without words, nothing more than a couple of squeaks coming out as she tried, and failed once more, to stand.  He hushed her and knelt at her side, pressing where the blood was.  She cried out as if in pain, her head falling back.  

“Please,” she begged, the tears streaming down her face now as she got the best look at him in the dim light, watched how the furrow in his brow deepened, how his eyes looked so lost and afraid.  For her.  She tried not to smile. Wasn’t he sweet?  “It hurts--p-please.  Help,” she whispered, her voice cracking as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.  When he leaned in closer she breathed him in.  

“Shit you’re so cold,” he muttered as he brought a hand to hers.  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the hospital,” he promised, worrying at his bottom lip in fear.  He was adorable, and when he pulled her into his broad arms she gave another cry of pain, burying her face in his shoulder.  She trembled in his grip and heard him curse, muttering under his breath to figure out how to get there quickest.  

When he carried her into his apartment, Nat whining that she couldn’t until he told her it was okay, and he was going to get her an ambulance--”Dammit why did I have to leave my fucking car at Loki’s?--she had to hide her smile of triumph.  Perfect.  

He laid her down on the modest well-worn couch after having shoved everything there onto the ground, kneeling beside her to stare at her.  He had an attractive face, blond hair falling from the ponytail he’d pulled it into.  He pulled his phone out, eyes on the numbers he was about to thumb in when she struck.  Before he could hit the send button she hit his hand hard enough to send it flying across the room.  It clattered just as she grabbed him by the arm and flipped the pair of them over.  His heart pulsed faster, his blood warm beneath her fingertips.  She groaned, her hips cementing his to the leather.  His curse was cut off as she pressed her lips to his, felt the thump of his heart speeding up, heard the rush of blood surging downwards as she felt him begin to harden against his will.  Her tongue pushed past his lips with a groan of her own, swallowing his moan of anger and frustration whole.  He tasted fantastic, and when he bit her lip to make her stop she simply moaned.  

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”  The man snarled when she pulled away, her lips spread into a wide grin.  

She ran a finger down his face, reaching out to grab his hand when it rose to push her away, hoisting his hand above his head and slinking backwards.  Her slit rubbed against his now hardened cock, pressing her breasts hard against his chest and nuzzling under his chin.  

“What’s your name, gorgeous?”  She purred.  She’d yet to have heard it, ignoring his complaints and his cursing, and she supposed she’d find out soon enough.  She slid her body up his again, licking up the side of his jaw.  It was so nicely defined she couldn't help herself.  

“What?” He gasped, cut off in his surprise.  

“Your name.  I want to know it,” she said, voice soft as she leaned in to nibble his earlobe.  It wasn’t that hard of a question, was it?  

“Thor,” he spat.  “Let me go--what the hell is wrong with you?  What the hell are you doing?”  He was shouting as his face reddened with every word, struggling to release himself from her grip.  She slackened it just enough that she wouldn’t hurt him, though she was still able ot keep him in place.  Leaning down she kissed him again, slow, lingering, and when she felt him tremble beneath her out of want and fear she wondered just how much farther she could push him.  Just how much farther she’d have to push him.  

“Thor,” she repeated, voice a breathy moan.  “I’m going to give you your wildest dreams, Thor,” she promised.  “I’m going to give you heaven and so much more.  I just need you to trust me.”  She stared at him, her own eyes hooded, lips swollen as she panted more for show than anything else.  

“I don’t even know you-.” he spluttered, voice cut off by the involuntary groan that ripped through his throat when she ground her hips against his.  “What do you want?”  

“You.”  She said with a toothy grin, leaning down to kiss him.  “Just one night.  Trust me for one night,” she proposed, her body still flat against his.  “Say yes and I’ll give you more than you could ever imagine.”  

“You got into my house--.”  

“Because I wanted you,” she emphasized.  How many more ways could she say it?  Sitting back on her haunches she wriggled her hips atop his, making a show of pulling her shirt off, bare breasts hanging just in front of his face.  His mouth slackened and she felt his hands shift from where they’d been trying to get her off of his hips to tighten around where he held her thighs.  She tried not to smirk, sure it would ruin the effect.  Arching her back, she ran a hand up her stomach.  

“Where’s your sense of thrill?”  She asked, voice husky and sweet as she rolled her hips atop his, delighting in the goosebumps that rose on his skin, a moan escaping her mouth as she felt him pulse beneath her.  “Please, Thor.  Please.” she gasped for him.  

That was all it took, it seemed, and he surged upwards and against her, capturing her lips in his and she groaned, melting underneath his touch, the pretense of their game slipping from the pair of them.  He held her tight against his chest, and when she pulled away to trace kisses down his throat he gave a groan of appreciation.  Her mouth watered as she felt his jugular vein pulse beneath her lips, and with a sweet, swift kiss to preface it, she sank her fangs into the marks already there from two days prior, felt him shudder and groan raggedly beneath her.  The hot blood filled her mouth and she whimpered at the taste of it, her fingers tightening their hold on his enormous biceps.  He couldn’t stop moaning either, hardly drawing breath as she sucked slowly, rolling her hips in time to the pulsing of his heart.  His fingers pulled at her pants, and she disconnected from him with a great groan of effort to allow him to slide them out shimmying and shifting as she freed herself of the confining fabric and helped Thor do the same.  Despite the wound on his neck the color was high in his cheeks and his eyes were glazed with a heady desire she felt all the way to the base of her toes.  His cock sprang free as soon as she yanked his pants down, grinning that he’d skipped on underwear the same way she did.  With bated breath she positioned herself atop the head of his cock, her slick folds greedy and waiting for him, but she had to take her time.  Inch by inch she slipped atop him, her head falling backwards and eyes rolling into the back of her head, fingers clutching at his shoulders as his head bent to take her breasts into his mouth.  She whimpered with the sensations, all the more powerful now that she had his blood in her, and when she finally seated herself completely on him she couldn’t have been more grateful she no longer needed oxygen to survive, sure that he’d have stolen it all from her.  She never felt as full as when she was with Thor, her lover always more than happy to assist her however he could, as in love with fucking and her biting him as she was.  He at least gave her a moment before helping her raise and lower herself atop him.  Her forehead leaned forward to rest against his shoulder as his hands found her hips and took over, doing the work for her.  Not that she couldn’t herself--she was even stronger than him, despite all of his muscles, but it was nice to not have to for once.  To surrender herself to being fucked, his hips canting upwards to meet with hers, the obscene sound of flesh slapping flesh filling their ears, mingled with moans and gasped names of one another.  

“Tell me you want this darling,” she keened, her head rising so her eyes could meet Thor’s, could watch the way that his brow furrowed with concentration and how his jaw dropped as he sucked in as much oxygen as he could.  She clung to the game from earlier.  “I told you you’d enjoy it-- _ah, mm, fuck yes Thor_ \--now tell me.”  

“ _Natasha_ ,” he breathed her name, kissing her cheek and moaning in her ear, his beard scratching against her skin, the sensation bringing her to whine and wriggle against him, her skin hypersensitive.  “I want this, please.  I always want this.  You feel so good around me, God Tasha,” he could barely breathe by the sound of his voice, and she tightened herself around him, feeling her climax nearing.  With a grin, she dipped her head and sank her teeth back into his skin.  The rush of blood into her mouth, combined with the thick head of Thor’s cock finding that wonderful spot of soft tissue within her, made her seize up around him, thighs squeezing where she straddled him tight.  He came with a mangled shout of his own, shoved over the edge by the bite and the sensation of her atop him, her name mixed up with words she couldn’t make out, one long stream of syllables that made whatever was left of her heart swell with emotion she couldn’t describe.  

She pulled away with a gasp of air, sealing the two small pricks with a swipe of her tongue, before easing him to lay down on the couch, curling up just atop his chest.  She never wanted to move, never wanted to leave him, even as she felt his cock softening inside her and the come leaking and leaving her body, she couldn’t help but wish she could stay there, in his arms, forever.

Maybe another day, another year, when he got tired of this life and was ready for the next.  She could wait.  

 

 


	8. 22 - Negative Emotion, Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the hammer scene from the newest AoU clip. Sorry, my fingers slipped

“What kind of a trick is this?”  Natasha asks, looking back at Thor with uncertain eyes, her lips pursed tight as her brow furrowed.  Mjolnir stood just in front of the door so she could only manage a half inch before it met with the heavy hammer, and from where Thor was pulling his pants up he gave a one-shouldered shrug.  They’d all taken turns the previous night trying to lift it, all except Natasha, Natasha who’d insisted that it wasn’t a question she needed answered, Natasha who never once desired to know whether or not she was worthy.  

He moved Mjolnir just after she’d passed out the previous night, and now Thor watches her with curious blue eyes.  

“Not a trick,” he assures her as he slips the belt through the loops with slow fingers.  She’s in a hurry, eager to get moving now that they have a target in mind.  If he hadn’t insisted that she rest after the fight last night with Ultron, she’d likely have left last night, but it was Tony’s bloody mess so it would be Tony who fixed it, Tony who stressed.  Right then and there, in the moment, it’s about Natasha, and her eyes don’t leave his as she puts her hands on her hips.  

“Thor, move it.”  

“You move it.”  He says, not missing a beat, grasping his shirt and hefting it over his head, doing up the buttons slowly.  

“I can’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

 _I don’t want to know it._  It hangs in the air between them, heavy enough that Thor’s heart aches of it, but he has confidence.  Mjolnir knows more than even he gives her credit, can feel the weight of one’s actions more acutely than even the most delicate of scales.  If Natasha still believes her ledger is out of balance, then perhaps it is Mjolnir who can show her the truth.  

And if not . . . he’s felt the sting of Mjolnir’s rejection, the cold, empty defeat that seeps into one’s veins, the reminder that there is still so much to be done that weighs heavily on the shoulders of the unworthy.  

He’s confident she won’t find that.  If he wasn’t he wouldn’t have set it up.  A look of resignation passes her delicate features and is gone half a second after. Were he not so accustomed to Loki having shown emotion in the same fashion he’d have missed it.  As it is it only tightens the pull on his heart, and when she dips her head down he steps forward to tip her chin up.

“Don’t.  Thor, please don’t do this,” Natasha murmurs, voice husky and soft in his ear.  He presses a kiss to her forehead and murmurs that he’ll move it, stepping around her to heft the hammer into his grip once more, her handle warm and comforting.  As he steps back towards Natasha he slips, tripping over one of the shoes he’d left lying about, and she reaches up to catch him before he falls on his face.  Mjolnir’s handle passes from his hand to hers, and her slim fingers wrap around its hilt with ease, her other hand finding his chest to steady him.  

There’s a pause, half a breath that passes between them, as she realizes that the weight in her hand doesn’t come from her lover.  Her mouth opens and she stares down at the hammer in her hands, holding it as simply as if it was made for her.  Thor smiles, kisses her cheek.  

“You didn’t want to know, but you needed to,” he whispers in her ear, beard growing wet from the scant tears that slide quickly down her cheeks.  

“You’re an ass,” she gasps, looking up at him through wet lashes, her eyes enormous.  

“You love me.”  He says, tipping her chin upwards to kiss her better as his left hand closes over her right one, tightening her grip on Mjolnir’s handle.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Masterlist of prompts: http://actualodinson.tumblr.com/post/64547472272/30-day-dark-fandom-otp-writing-challenge


End file.
